Spring Rushing Waters Moon
Slept fine. But there is a certain heaviness this morning. A matter of this news, this cancer (see post below), seeping in to my psyche, I suppose. A dullness, compensation for the sharp knife. It wasn’t apparently, my rational side, that said things would be fine, but that part that hopes, that imagines life as a straight line. If our Colorado years have had a lesson, it is that life zigs and zags, even in the third phase.
I had a dream three nights ago. Seems prescient now. I was in a non-descript house or building, bare of furniture. Someone, or something, was in the basement. I could hear gun shots. I hunted for entrances to the basement and found two, one a door and one a grate.
Down there were steel pillars covered in concrete. Whoever or whatever down there wanted to bring the building down. The blue painted concrete had shattered on many of the pillars exposing steel beams. They still stood strong.
Somebody handed me a rifle. I readied myself, though frightened, to go down and save the building.
In Jungian dream interpretation, as I learned it, any house or building is your psyche. The top floor is the supergo, the ground floor the ego, and the basement is the unconscious. This building might well have had a top floor, but it didn’t figure into this dream, all ego and unconscious. My unconscious sent up a clear message, our home is in danger. Get down here and take care of it before the foundation crumbles.
On it.
